His Voice
by WinterGarden
Summary: Dean finds a note left on the bedside table and reads it in a scared, confused, all-too-familiar voice-the voice of an angel trying to fix what is broken. **Inspired by Dean and Castiel's conversation in 8x08, strong Dean/Cas friendship.


**Just a one-shot I wrote, inspired by Castiel and Dean's conversation in 8x08. I thought it was an interesting concept, so I explored it! Please let me know what you think, and enjoy!**

**Warnings: None. A few strong swear words, but that's about it.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

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His voice.

Dean read the words in _his fucking voice_ as soon as his eyes hit the paper and the ink smudged as he rubbed his thumb over it. He thought that only happened in chick movies. It was dramatic and stupid—they're just words on a paper. Scrawled words written with black pen on a notepad that lay on the hotel bed stand. A piece of paper that could easily be torn up and thrown away.

Not this one, though. This one was different. Really, really different. This one Dean read with the gruff, confused, broken voice of an angel. He could practically see Castiel scribbling, reading it over, scribbling some more, and then setting it ever so carefully on the table. He could see it all. Those first three words sent Dean's heart into his throat.

_I'm so sorry._

And once Dean was already breathing heavily, he read on.

_We've been through much together, but I'm afraid I must take my leave._

And then Dean started to shake, and he read more.

_My grace is gone. I have fallen. So now it will be much easier._

And Dean was saying "no, no, no," under his breath, as though it could stop the words.

_Thank you for everything you have done for me. I never deserved it._

"No, no, no…"

_ You have stood by me for so long and even took me back. You introduced me to so much more than I ever would have known._

And Dean sunk down against the wall, covering his mouth with a hand so no sound escaped him.

_I would like to thank you most of all, however, for making me feel. Only you could have made me feel like that. I once told you I would never like to be human. But now I know that I was wrong. Knowing you was knowing a world completely different than my own. But right now, I must say goodbye to both those worlds._

"Cas…"

_Goodbye and good luck._

As soon as Dean read that final word, "Castiel," scribbled at the bottom of the page, he was expecting to sob. To crumple the paper and throw it across the room, to scream and break things and run away and never come back. But one noise stopped him. A noise just above him, actually—footsteps. Dean initially imagined it was another floor—the Winchesters never usually hung out in a hotel, but this was the only place for miles, and Dean was tired. But they were on the top floor—the eleventh floor—and above them was the roof.

They were right below the roof.

They had come back from their hunt earlier than expected.

The ink on the note smudged when Dean first picked it up.

And Dean swore that he saw a dark figure disappearing around the corner when the elevator doors opened to their floor.

And then Dean was running. Before the rest of his thoughts formed, before he dropped the note, he was running. Faster than he ever thought he could, running, running, running, out the door and through the hall and up the fire escape and through hidden exits to the roof of the hotel that they decided to splurge on for the night.

All because he heard his friend's voice when he picked up that note.

Castiel's name escaped Dean's lip in a scream as soon as the door to the roof burst open, and yes, yes, _yes,_ there he was, at the edge of the roof, living, breathing, shaking, turning towards Dean.

"No! Dammit, Cas, no!" Dean's legs carried him now, a mind of their own, but Castiel calmly stepped down from the ledge to look at his friend. Dean knew he must look like a mess. He was still bloodied from his and Sam's fight, he was breathing heavily and his face must have a look of sheer terror etched on for eternity now.

"Dean, I have to do it," Castiel said softly. He sounded so sad. So broken. His dark hair stuck up at odd angles, his chapped lips parted in…concern? Confusion? Dean never really knew what it was, just that he always had that face on. He looked so incredibly…human.

"Cas, you don't have to do this! What the fuck are you thinking, huh?"

"I saw, Dean. I saw what I did to heaven. I definitely saw what I did on earth, and I saw what I did to you!"

"You made mistakes, Cas, we all do! You think I give up every time I make a mistake?"

"You've never done something like this, Dean," Cas scoffed. He actually scoffed. A sad, bitter half-smile as he turned away from Dean and shook his head. "You've never deserved to die."

"Neither—neither do you!" Dean grabbed Castiel's shoulder and turned him around forcefully. And the force didn't stop there.

"You're a child, you know that?" Dean spat, closing the space between him and Castiel.

"You've told me a few times," Cas replied bitterly, meeting Dean's eyes with his own blazing blue ones.

"You're just gonna clock out now? Give up on me? And Sam?"

"You don't need me anymore, Dean!"

"I will _never_ _stop_ needing you!" Dean put his hands on Castiel's chest and shoved, hard. "You son of a bitch, you think you'll fix everything by jumping? What about me? I need you, buddy, you know that! I know you feel like shit, but trust me, this won't fix _anything_!" Dean shouted and pushed, his face always too close to Castiel's. It was only when Cas met his eyes again when Dean stopped yelling. The air silenced between them.

"At least I won't break anything else," Castiel said quietly, looking back out away from Dean. Dean stood where he was, breathing heavily. He ran a hand over his face, heart still pounding. Not even from the fight. His heart hadn't stopped from the moment he saw the note lying on the bedside table. He was expecting to eat his pie in peace while Sam studied at the local library. And instead, he was on the roof with a fallen angel, about to jump into the cold winter night sky, never to come back.

Dean looked at Castiel, watching the stars so silently. He took a few breaths to steady his shaking voice before he responded.

"You'll break me."

When Cas looked back at Dean, his ocean-blue eyes were welling with tears.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Dean."

And Dean knew it wasn't going to be easy. Cas was never—he was _never _going to forgive himself. But they could work at it. Maybe Cas could come on hunts with them now that he didn't need heaven anymore. Maybe he could sleep in Sam's bed tonight, since Sam would probably be at the library until morning. Maybe he could get better.

Maybe.

"Then come back," Dean tried to smile strongly and confidently, but the words came out as a whisper and his smile was small and scared and hopeful. The two stared at one another for a long time, their breaths coming out in white puffs. After what seemed like an hour—a painfully long, tense hour—Castiel smiled slightly and nodded. He looked up only once at the night sky, as if bidding his final goodbye to his brothers and sisters, and then at Dean.

Before he could move any more, though, Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel and pulled him tight, tucking his chin in the crook of Cas's neck. This time, he felt Cas's arms come up hesitantly, and then tighten ever so slightly once they touched Dean's back. Dean heard a small noise come from Cas—a laugh? A sigh? Dean could have stayed there for the entire night, feeling that live person in front of him, listening to that voice.

That perfect fucking voice.


End file.
